


comfort care

by jessicawhitly



Series: nothing gold can stay [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20894948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicawhitly/pseuds/jessicawhitly
Summary: Joyce gets a cold.





	comfort care

“Joyce…you’re sick.”

All that he gets in reply is a grunt and a vaguely rude hand gesture from the pile of blankets on the bed, and he sinks down on the edge gingerly. Reaching a hand out, he gently strokes over the tangled, sweaty brunette head, frowning at how hot she feels.

“Babe,” he starts, and this time Joyce rolls to look at him, blinking hazy eyes open. “I’m gonna take your temperature, okay?”

She just groans again, hoarse and croaky, and Hopper pulls the thermometer out of the box, gently coaxing her mouth open and sticking it under her tongue. It’s high, but not scarily so when he reads it, so he merely tries to resituate her under the covers, though she starts to shiver when he pulls the covers away from her face.

“Cold,” she murmurs, and Hopper moves to the closet, pulling the thicker quilt from the high shelf, putting that over the down comforter.

“I’m calling into work for you,” he tells her, and Joyce tries to protest, but he shakes his head. “Joy, you can barely open your eyes and your fever is over a hundred. There’s no way you can be on your feet today. Try and get some rest, I’ll go get some soup and Gatorade and see what cold meds we’ve got in the cabinet.”

Joyce’s lips quirk into a half-smirk, and she fumbles her hand out of the covers until she can find his, squeezing it in her clammy one. “My hero.”

He leans forward, brushing a kiss over her damp forehead before he stands.

Their med supply is decent- Will still got colds nearly every winter, thanks to his Upside Down-weakened lungs, so after checking that Joyce was sleeping soundly, Hopper made a trip to the store for soup and Gatorade and juice and crackers and the tea he knew she liked. He also got more tissues and Vicks- he’d heard the rumble in Joyce’s chest when she breathed, thanks to the years of smoking, and his mother had sworn by the stuff when he was a kid. The fuzzy socks with little foxes on them? Not really a necessity, but they’d make her smile, and that was pretty much all he wanted to make her do these days.

When he gets back, Joyce is still resting, so he starts making some soup and puts the juice in the fridge- when he has the soup ready and cold juice, Hopper wakes her up and gets the first round of meds into her.

“Are there foxes on these socks?” she asks when she pulls them out of the bag, voice hoarse and rough against her throat, and when he nods, feeling a little foolish, she grins and puts them on immediately. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Joyce requests The Princess Bride, and sips at her soup while bundled on the couch as Hopper cleans up the kitchen and gets the kids off the bus.

“Mom, you’re home,” Will says, face scrunched up in concern, and Joyce nods.

“I think I finally caught the bug going around work,” she answers, voice still throaty, and El frowns in sympathy.

“I hate being sick,” she tells her, but still settles into Joyce’s side to watch Dirty Dancing when it gets put into the player next.

“You’re going to get sick if you stay close to me, you know,” Joyce comments, and El shrugs. Hopper joins on Joyce’s other side, letting her settle against his broad chest. “So are you, for that matter.”

“I haven’t gotten a cold since the 70’s,” is all he says, and Joyce snorts.

“We’ll see about that.”


End file.
